Harry Potter: Extreme Edition
by crazybitch7
Summary: A re-write of Harry Potter, done properly.
1. Chapter 1

Harry Potter: Extreme Edition

Chapter 1

Fat Albus strolled down Privet drive in his zoot suit, kicking homeless people to prove his absolute fucking dominance. His boots were clogged with flesh, his hands stained in blood, the corners of his mouth perked into a grin. Today had been a good day. But as he walked farther, he became more and more agitated at the streetlights around him, which had began to burn his retinas away. Without hesitation, he whipped out his shotgun, and fired one shell into every lamp on the block, effectively plunging the neighborhood into darkness.

"That about does it," he said to himself, because there was nobody else to talk to. As he stood there, reveling in his eminence, a cat brushed against his leg, and then proceeded to mount him.

"I am a pussy magnet, McGonagall, but not like that," he said, before punting the feline sky high. As it fell back down from space, it seemed to fall more and more slowly, until it landed softly on the ground, and then transformed into an old lady. Everybody has bedded her.

"Fuck you. Where's the boy?" McGonagall lit up a cigarette.

"Hagrid is on his way with him." He snatched her cigarette and took a puff.

"Fuck you. I don't trust him." McGonagall took a swig of vodka.

"Hagrid is a real nigga. Trust me on this." He punched her in the stomach, making her projectile vomit all of the hard liquor she had drank into his mouth, turning her drunken stupor into his. "You shouldn't be drinking on the job."

The two suddenly jolted upward at the sound of German power metal booming from a distance. The music grew louder and louder, and worse and worse. The noise was seemingly unexplainable until a '77 Chevy Nova drifted around the street corner at 70mph, driving on anything but the fucking road. It passed relentlessly through fence after fence, kicking dirt onto everything in sight, demolishing everything it came into contact with, before promptly stopping next to the two.

Out popped a fat fuck holding a bag from which various cries and whimpers echoed. "I got all the babies!" He smiled, revealing some teeth, and farted.

Fat Albus stood there dumbfounded for an entire goddamn minute before he decided to speak. "Not only are you late, you look like Santa Claus on meth, and babies? What do you mean, 'babies'?"

Hagrid looked down at the bag, and then shifted his gaze toward the ground, now afraid to make eye contact. "I...uh, got the babies you requested."

Fat Albus took a step toward him. "There was one baby. One. Not two. Not three. Not more. One." Fat Albus took another step. "Do you know math? Know what numbers are? How they work?"

Hagrid swallowed, and remained silent.

Fat Albus took another step. "You were listening, right? I mean, you know how to do your job. And what it is. You're a good worker, right? And you understand English, right?"

Hagrid began sweating profusely, and remained silent.

Fat Albus took one more step. The two were now exchanging breath. "Then, friend, what the fuck are you doing with this sack of shit?" He pressed his forehead to Hagrid's. "Are you a fucking idiot? Do you think I'm going to settle for this shit?"

"No sir. No sir. I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" Tears streamed down his cheeks.

Fat Albus took a step back. "I'm going to have nice, nice dreams about what your punishment will be. And then I'll wake up and have a great day." He smiled at Hagrid as he snatched the bag from him, and began to rummage through it, undeterred by the piercing screams from inside. After a couple of minutes and 4 discarded babies, he found the right one, scarred as it should be. He pulled him out and dropped the bag.

"Sectum sempra," he said, waving his wand at the bag, which then split into two halves, as if it had been sliced apart. Then it exploded. There was silence. "McGonagall, slash their tires, dump out the rest of your juice onto the engines and light it up. No half-measures. We want them to know to take care of this kid."

"Fuck you."

"Fuck you." He fucked her on the spot.

*to be continued*


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The day was sunny, with not a cloud in sight. Children smiled and laughed as they played in the street, bullying the weakest, joggers deaf by headphones ran up and down the sidewalk, pushing people over, and bicyclists rode in the middle of the damn street in what looks like above-ground scuba gear. This was indeed a rare day in which everyone could finally believe they were having a good time; there were smiles all around as everyone ignored the sadness lurking deep within. Near the end of the street, at 4 Privet Drive, a brand new car sat in the parking lot, with a scarlet bow resting on top. What kind of car is it? Use your damn imagination

Inside, colorful banners were hanging from the walls and ceilings, balloons filled the hallways and rooms, and streamers lined nearly every available surface, turning the home into a psychedelic jungle. There was a pile of presents to be found in every room, with each present wrapped with the sharpest of creases, no wrinkles, no tears. In the dining room were not only presents, but also a 4-level cake, professionally decorated in spirals and waves of frosting, overlapping and sprouting from each other.

"Harry!" The Aunt knocked on Harry's door three times, just loudly enough, so as not to upset him. "Who's ready for their birthday?" She put on the smile she had practiced over the past 3 weeks and proceeded inside, into the biggest room in the house, only to find her nephew yet again laying in bloodstained sheets, with open cuts and gashes on his arms, earbuds taped to his ears. A pack of disposable razors sat on the nightstand, a few of them had been cracked apart. "Hey! How are ya," she said as she sat down on the bed next to him. "Happy birthday!"

"I don't want a birthday. I don't know why you think you can be my mom. Just get out," Harry said, turning his music up.

"Now now, that's no way to act." she leaned over to scratch his head, but Harry bit her hand. The Aunt stiffened and stifled a whimper, knowing that the only way out was through. Blood ran down her fingers and dripped onto the sheets. "Those sharpened teeth are really workin' out for ya! I'm glad we could do that for you!" She smiled through the tears.

Harry released his grip. "They're all I need. I don't want any presents. I don't even really know if it's my birthday. You literally just drew a date out of a hat and stuck with that. I don't know why you have to keep up this act," he said, putting his headphones back on. "If I'm not making myself clear, we are going to have a problem." He gave her The Look.

Tears streamed down the Aunt's face.

"Get out. Nobody loves you, not your pig of a husband, not your retarded child, not me. Stop wasting my time," Harry explained.

"OK," she said, thinking about the gun in her nightstand. "But all your presents will still be waiting for you downstairs if you want them." Her voice wavering, her resolve strong. "I love you."

"I don't." He didn't blink.

Eyes empty, The Aunt left the room, closing the door behind her as quietly as possible.

For the remainder of the day, Harry spent his pseudobirthday, the closest thing he had to a real birthday, locked in his room, listening to Norwegian death metal. He opened no presents, he had no fun.


End file.
